Gospel Story Finder

Recently I was privileged to meet a modern-day pioneer, a beloved daughter of God and recent convert to the Church in Chile. She is a single mother with two young sons. Through the power of the Atonement, she has been enabled to put her past behind her and is now earnestly striving to become a true disciple of Jesus Christ. As I think of her, a principle taught by Elder David A. Bednar comes to mind: “It is one thing to know that Jesus Christ came to earth to die for us—that is fundamental and foundational to the doctrine of Christ. But we also need to appreciate that the Lord desires, through His Atonement and by the power of the Holy Ghost, to live in us—not only to direct us but also to empower us.”
As this Chilean sister and I discussed how to stay on the path leading to eternal life, she enthusiastically assured me that she was determined to continue on the path. She had been off the path most of her life, and she declared that there was nothing “out there” off the path that she wanted to have back in her life again. The enabling power of the Atonement is living inside of her. It is being written in her heart.

On 29 November 2018, my dear wife, Ruth, went into labor with our fourth child. Although this was an exciting and joyous moment for us as a family, there was some major concern. The pregnancy was at 32 weeks and the expected delivery was to be late January 2019. This was approximately eight weeks early. The thought—and the now-evident reality—of getting our baby preterm was disturbing.
Before we rushed to the Aga Khan University Hospital in Nairobi that night, I said a silent prayer and beseeched the Lord so that both the mother and baby would be protected. As we arrived at the hospital, the doctors warned me of the possible dangerous outcomes of preterm delivery. They mentioned that the baby’s development could be affected due to incomplete time in the womb. In the worst-case scenario, loss of life happens, and mom and baby could be lost. Although this terrified me, I knew that God was in the details. I knew that the Lord would do His will upon my wife and baby. This assurance gave me a lot of peace. I had prayed many times for other pressing matters in the past, and I had seen the hand of the Lord. He had answered all my prayers from the days of my youth. I knew He would not forsake us even in this case however difficult it seemed.
Things went on well and our baby, David, was born weighing 1.5 kg (approximately 3.3 pounds). The doctors said he looked good for his age and that he was not in any extreme danger. He was placed in the neonatal intensive care unit and he responded very well to the care given by the doctors and nurses. Like many other times in the past, I saw the hand of the Lord and His choicest blessing in my wife’s and son’s lives. This experience helped me appreciate our great medical technology and the selfless acts of the hospital personnel. David is healthy and thriving now and has been a great addition to our family. He is a source of joy to us all. His siblings Payson, Precious, and Natasha love him dearly. He is a constant reminder of the greatness of God.

—Michelle Beach, 19, worked for 10 weeks in a floral design shop in Darmstadt, West Germany, not far from where her father is stationed with the army.
“They really wanted me to learn, so they gave me a lot of opportunities,” she said. “I worked on displays, color selection, care and handling of flowers, just about everything they do in the shop, except that I don’t speak much German, so I didn’t have much interaction with the customers.”
She studied firsthand the similarities and differences between German and American business practices, and between European and American floral designs.
“I learned that running a shop is not an easy thing to do. But it’s an opportunity to use your talents and work hard. And,” she said, “I found out that it’s really what I’m interested in.”

“Recently, at a speaking engagement, a woman approached me and told me that she had read my bio over and over again.
“Puzzled, I asked, ‘Why?’
“She told me that she had four young children at home and she felt guilt for being a working mother. Reading in my bio that I had worked outside the home gave her peace.
“I looked her in the eyes and asked,
“‘Do you know how to receive personal revelation?’
“‘Yes,’ she responded.
“Then I told her, ‘Every time someone says something that is hurtful or makes you doubt what you’re doing, just remind yourself: I know how to receive personal revelation for myself and for my family.’
“God knows you. He knows your situation. He knows your heart. Trust in the Lord, learn to hear His voice, and then go forward with confidence and relief. He needs you in His work.”
President Camille N. Johnson, Facebook, July 15, 2023, facebook.com/RSGeneralPresident.

I still remember one:
“An older boy and his young companion were walking along a road which led through a field. They saw an old coat and a badly worn pair of men’s shoes by the roadside, and in the distance they saw the owner working in the field.
“The younger boy suggested that they hide the shoes, conceal themselves, and watch the perplexity on the owner’s face when he returned.
“The older boy … thought that would not be so good. He said the owner must be a very poor man. So, after talking the matter over, at his suggestion, they concluded to try another experiment. Instead of hiding the shoes, they would put a silver dollar in each one and … see what the owner did when he discovered the money. So they did that.
“Pretty soon the man returned from the field, put on his coat, slipped one foot into a shoe, felt something hard, took it out and found a silver dollar. Wonder and surprise [shone] upon his face. He looked at the dollar again and again, turned around and could see nobody, then proceeded to put on the other shoe; when to his great surprise he found another dollar. His feelings overcame him. … He knelt down and offered aloud a prayer of thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife being sick and helpless and his children without bread. … He fervently thanked the Lord for this bounty from unknown hands and evoked the blessing of heaven upon those who gave him this needed help.
“The boys remained [hidden] until he had gone.” They had been touched by his prayer and felt something warm within their hearts. As they left to walk down the road, one said to the other, “Don’t you have a good feeling?” (Adapted from Bryant S. Hinckley, Not by Bread Alone, 95).

Perhaps an oft-repeated scene will bring closer to home your personal opportunity to reach out to rescue. Let us look in on a family with a lad named Jack. Throughout Jack’s early life, he and his father had many serious arguments. One day, when Jack was seventeen, they had a particularly violent quarrel. Jack said to his father, “This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I’m leaving home, and I will never return!” So declaring, he went to his room and packed a bag. His mother begged him to stay, but he was too angry to listen. He left her crying at the doorway.

Leaving the yard, Jack was about to pass through the gate when he heard his father call to him: “Jack, I know that a large share of the blame for your leaving rests with me. For this I am truly sorry. I want you to know that if you should ever wish to return home, you’ll always be welcome. And I’ll try to be a better father to you. I want you to know that I’ll always love you.” Jack said nothing, but went to the bus station and bought a ticket to a distant point. As he sat in the bus watching the miles go by, he thought about the words of his father. He realized how much love it had required for his father to do what he had done. Dad had apologized. He had invited him back and had left the words ringing in the summer air, “I love you.”

It was then that Jack understood that the next move was up to him. He knew that the only way he could ever find peace with himself was to demonstrate to his father the same kind of maturity, goodness, and love that Dad had shown toward him. Jack got off the bus, bought a return ticket to home, and went back.

He arrived shortly after midnight, entered the house, and turned on the light. There in the rocking chair sat his father, his head bowed. As the father looked up and saw Jack, he rose from the chair, and they rushed into each other’s arms. Jack often said, “Those last years that I was home were among the happiest of my life.”

Here was a boy who overnight became a man. Here was a father who, suppressing passion and bridling pride, reached out to rescue his son before he became one of that vast “lost battalion” resulting from fractured families and shattered homes. Love was the binding band, the healing balm. Love—so often felt, so seldom expressed.

Please make sure your seat belt is fastened and adjust your seat back to its upright position. You are about to land in Auckland, New Zealand.
Giant Puhutukawa trees dot the rolling hills around the city. And the boat-flecked sea surrounding Auckland, the City of Sails, is shining in the sun. But the variety in the landscapes, buildings, and boats is only a reflection of the colorful and varied cultures and personalities of the people of New Zealand.
The youth and other members of the Church are no exception. To the mix of the many things that make up life in New Zealand they add their own main ingredients of faith and testimony.
In Auckland is the Panmure stake. And in that stake’s boundaries is Bucklands Beach, where Bella Aniterea and Nicolas Purcell live. This morning Bella, a Mia Maid, is giving a talk on prayer in sacrament meeting. There’s a good reason her dad, a member of the Howick Ward bishopric, asked her to give that talk. She says she has a testimony of prayer because she prays.
In preparing for her talk, Bella reread the story of Enos in the Book of Mormon. “He prayed for one whole day, and he prayed for his enemies,” Bella recounts. Although she had read the story before, she had never noticed that Enos prayed for his enemies. “I haven’t done that yet,” Bella says, “but I think I’m going to start today.”
And, if you look to the left of the pulpit where Bella bore her testimony of prayer, you’ll see Nicolas, a teacher, putting away the sacrament trays after the meeting.
It might sound strange, but Nicolas’s testimony of the priesthood began with a head injury. “I was Rollerblading down a hill with a mate, and I hit something and cracked the back of my head open.” At 10 inches, the “crack” was more like a canyon, and the doctors said Nicolas would not pull through or he would have severe brain damage. A priesthood blessing from his dad and others in the ward proved the doctors wrong. “That experience gave me quite a shining testimony of the priesthood,” Nicolas says. The Lord preserved his life through the power of the priesthood, and Nicolas plans to honor his priesthood by serving a mission.
Nicolas and Bella’s stake is only a hop, skip, and a jump from the Avondale Ward in the Waterview stake. The trip to the temple from there takes a few hours. Nevertheless, the youth of that ward all pile into a minibus so they can do baptisms for the dead in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple.
The road to Hamilton twists and turns, and the Avondale youth sway from side to side as they become even more excited about going to the temple. They look out the windows of the minibus at the rain. It is like liquid sunshine. Warm and wet. There’s a good reason the Maori name for New Zealand is Aotearoa, or the Land of the Long White Cloud.
After the baptisms, the Avondale youth go to the soggy, green temple grounds. This was Jordon King’s first time doing baptisms for the dead, but she knows how important the work is. “We were there to help the people who can’t do their own work. I got a warm feeling.” And with that warm feeling, Jordon, 12, joined the other youth in their testimonies of temple work.

The next morning dawned sunny and clear, promising a wonderful day. Instead, everything seemed to go wrong. To start things off, everyone (including me!) slept in. Unfortunately, when young people sleep in, it usually seems more important to spend five precious minutes on their hair instead of their knees. It must have happened to all of us that day. At breakfast, instead of laughing bravely at the cafeteria food and talking eagerly of the day’s activities, everyone complained, refused to eat, and asked the counselors if they had to go hiking. Not being in the best mood myself, I snapped back answers and rushed the kids around.
My spirits didn’t rise very much when I learned that I had to drive up the mountains instead of hiking. Someone had to bring the food and the kids who didn’t want to hike. Things didn’t look much better when I saw what I was supposed to drive. It was a huge van that growled viciously at me when I turned it on. It took every ounce of my strength to turn the steering wheel, and the stick shift threatened to break my arm every time I touched it. To top it all off, I got lost trying to follow the other cars in our group up the canyon.
In spite of all of this, we finally made it to the top, found the hikers, and started the barbecue. I cheered up a little bit and decided that we could finish the day on a good note.
Just when the meat was smelling good and the kids were starting to smile, it was discovered that someone had forgotten the spatulas and knives. All eyes, of course, turned immediately to the table I was trying to hide under. Thinking quickly, I saved my skin by showing everyone how we could flip hamburgers with branches and drop the watermelons onto sharp rocks instead of using knives. Everyone got to eat, but they were still pretty mad, tired, and ready to get out of the canyon.
No one wanted to leave more than I did, and after cramming everyone into the cars, I hurried the other counselors so we could get back as soon as possible. My vehicle was the last of the four cars in our group to come down the narrow, winding dirt road. Besides being in a hurry, all the drivers were tired and preoccupied with the kids. That must have been why no one noticed the big truck in time to slow down. The first two cars were able to swerve around it, and, amazingly, I was able to skid to a stop when I saw it. Then we watched helplessly as the car in front of us was knocked off the road. I sat in a daze as the car, filled with people I was responsible for, rolled over and smashed into a big tree, inches away from a steep drop-off.
I held my breath until, one by one, the kids started crawling out of the driver’s window. Then I jumped out of my car and ran to see if anyone had been seriously injured, praying that I wouldn’t need to use my newly learned first-aid skills. We got everyone out quickly, and I ran around making sure everyone was all right.
Miraculously, no one had even been bruised in that smashed car. Some of the kids were pretty scared and the car would need to be towed, but everyone was safe. As we helped the kids into other cars, another counselor showed me how close they had come to going right over the edge. Another girl saw it, too, and started to go into shock. She had been sitting right by the window during the accident and had been sure the car would go right over the edge. She was put into my car, and I was instructed to take her to the hospital, driving carefully this time.
I climbed into my car and tried to stop shaking long enough to pick up the keys. I couldn’t. All the girls were crying, and the boys who had been in the other car were giving everyone a play-by-play account of the accident, complete with sound effects. I had to calm these kids down, but I was too scared to even pick up the keys. I put my head down on the big steering wheel and tried to regain some composure before everyone else went into shock, too, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had almost happened because of my impatience and anger. I started crying. I couldn’t get out of this canyon by myself! We were going to crash again if I drove! What would I say to the parents of these wonderful kids if anything happened? I couldn’t do it by …
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to look into the very dirty, but calm, face of a young boy sitting behind me.
“Viv,” he said bluntly, as only a 12-year-old can, “you’re a nervous wreck. You need to get control of yourself or we’re not going to make it down. We’d better have a prayer.”
I couldn’t do a thing but stare at him, so he gave a prayer, the shortest, simplest one I’ve ever heard. “Heavenly Father, we’re thankful that everyone’s okay. Help us to get home without any harm or accidents. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
I lifted up my head and looked at this skinny 12-year-old boy. Then I started to cry again, but they weren’t tears of fear or frustration this time. Harmer accidents. He had asked the Lord to protect us from Harmer accidents. And, without a doubt, he believed that the Lord would do it! Suddenly, I found myself believing it, too. We would be protected from harm or accidents as surely as if we had prayed specifically about Harmer accidents. Not since I was eight years old and thought people prayed specifically for my safety had I felt with such assurance that a supplication for my safety would be heard and valued in heaven.
Driving safely down Provo Canyon that night, I learned a long-overdue lesson. It’s not the words we use in prayers that make them meaningful. It’s not the length that makes the Lord listen, nor the style that brings comfort. It’s the faith and sincerity with which we offer our prayers that make them work. I thought of all the times that I had prayed for protection from harm or accidents without really meaning or believing it. It only took the simple faith and prayer of a young boy to restore my faith in that phrase. I could offer prayers with the faith I had at age three if I just made sure my words were accompanied by faith and sincerity.

Recently my wife and I attended a sacrament meeting away from our home ward. Just before the meeting started, a young man approached me and asked if I would help pass the sacrament. I said, “I’d be happy to.”
I took my seat with the other deacons and asked one who was sitting next to me, “What is my assignment?” He told me I was to start passing at the back of the chapel in the middle section and that he would be on the other side of the same section, and together we would work our way to the front.
I said, “I haven’t done this for a long time.”
He replied, “That’s OK. You’ll be fine. I felt the same way when I started.”
Later the youngest deacon in the quorum, ordained only weeks earlier, gave a talk in sacrament meeting. After the meeting, the other deacons rallied around him to tell him how proud they were of their fellow quorum member.
As I visited with them that day, I found out that each week, members of all the Aaronic Priesthood quorums in that ward reach out to other young men and invite them to be part of their quorums.
These young men were all great leaders. And they clearly had some wonderful behind-the-scenes Melchizedek Priesthood holders, parents, and others who mentored them in their duties. Caring adults like these see young men not just as they are but as they can become. When they talk to or about the young men, they do not dwell on their shortcomings. Instead, they emphasize the great leadership qualities they are demonstrating.

“This is crazy,” I shouted, even though I was sure nobody could hear me. To my right, not more than a couple of feet away, water thundered over an 80-foot drop. Crawford was below, camera on tripod, motioning for me to get still closer to the falls.
Our Varsity Scouts were camping near Silvermoon Falls. I’d asked Crawford to serve as official overnighter photographer, and he’d eagerly accepted. Now it was Saturday morning, and much to the delight of the other boys, Crawford had talked me into hiking to the top of the falls so he could get my picture.
He waved me over again. I shook my head no. He made a face and flapped his arms at me in mock disgust. Then he stepped around his tripod and set the timer. A few seconds went by, and I smiled and tried to look serene, despite the roaring water. Then the boys broke into a cheer and signaled for me to climb down.
“Are you guys trying to get a new adviser?” I huffed after arriving. “You could be more subtle about it. And when do I get to see the picture?”
“At the right time,” Crawford said with a wink. “At the right time.”
Crawford’s on a mission now, in Germany. I get a kick when I think of size 15 feet on cobblestone streets. It’s a difficult mission, no doubt. But Crawford will succeed. He knows who he is.
And on my desk is a photo he gave me when I was released as teachers quorum adviser. It’s a photo of me at Silvermoon Falls, trying to look calm while balanced on a rock next to the rushing water. Next to me is the stream, narrow and hard-running, no different than dozens of other streams. Then it shoots over the cliff and becomes a waterfall, a thing of beauty, a thing of power, a thing of inspiration.
I think about the waterfall and I think about Crawford. It seems to me that in many ways, they are almost the same.

“We get to hear the prophet speak today!” Chase said to his little sister, Amelie.
Amelie was excited too. They had learned about prophets in family home evening just last Monday. A prophet is a person who has been called by God and speaks for Him. The prophet receives commandments and revelations from God and then shares them with Heavenly Father’s children. Mom had shown Chase and Amelie pictures of President Monson. They decided to draw their own pictures of the prophet too.
Now Chase and Amelie were going to a devotional to hear President Thomas S. Monson speak to them.
“Let’s bring our pictures,” Chase said.
Chase and Amelie took their pictures of President Monson off the refrigerator door.
“This is going to be more fun than the circus or the zoo!” Chase said.
When they got to the devotional, Chase and Amelie stared at all the people in the huge stadium. Almost all of the seats were filled. Chase and Amelie had to sit behind the stand. All they could see was the back of President Monson’s head.
President Monson spoke about prophets God had called in the latter days. The prophets were righteous men who followed God.
After the closing prayer, President Monson turned to leave the stadium. He headed right toward Chase and Amelie! They excitedly held up their pictures so President Monson could see them.
President Monson smiled when he saw Chase and Amelie’s pictures.
“Oh, how nice,” he said. “How about a high five?” President Monson held up his hand to Chase and Amelie.
Chase and Amelie each gave President Monson a high five. They were so happy to meet the prophet. They truly knew that he was a prophet of God.

The children have learned in the process of growing up what their parents expect. One young man said: “I remember when one of my friends asked if I’d like to go to a movie with him on a Sunday afternoon. I said no, and he wanted to know why—was that one of our rules? he asked. I thought about it and suddenly realized that it was one of our rules, but it had never been stated in those words. It’s just one of the things that our family would never do.”

“Maybe you’re right. My cousin used to make sack lunches for her dad. He rode to work in a car pool, and the other men liked his lunches—she always put a little extra treat inside or wrote him a note. Pretty soon she was making lunches for everyone in the car pool, and they each paid her. Maybe we could do something like that,” Tom said. He was starting to catch Jim’s excitement, but Jim issued a friendly word of caution.
“We might have to get a license if we start a restaurant business,” he grinned.
“Even for a lemonade stand?” Tom shot back. They both laughed.
The situation Tom and Jim faced is typical. Many teenagers have a hard time finding a summer job, especially if they put off worrying about it until school is over. For those who haven’t yet arranged for employment, the time to start thinking about it is immediately. Even those who figure they’re too young to get anything but a “try again next year” response from prospective employers would do well to begin brainstorming now about ways to invest their time away from school. Perhaps they’ll decide to follow Tom and Jim’s example and hire themselves this summer. It’s a viable alternative to teenage unemployment.
It would be wise, however, to keep in mind that going into business means assuming responsibility. Many communities have laws requiring licensing, payment of taxes, business permits, food-handling permits, work permits, liability insurance, and inspection of facilities, regardless of the age of the proprietor.
In the United States, state offices of the U.S. Department of Labor can furnish guidelines concerning both agricultural and nonagricultural labor laws governing youth employment. Most states also have a state Division of Labor or similar agency that will gladly furnish a copy of youth employment regulations. Many other countries have ministries of labor or other governmental agencies that provide information about labor laws for those under a prescribed age, usually 18. Most of the work ideas mentioned in this story require no special permit or license and are legal when conducted on a neighborhood basis, but regulations vary, and it’s a good idea to double check the law if there are any questions.
There are many ways to learn new talents, earn the respect of friends and neighbors, provide service, and gain some income at the same time. Perhaps the following list will generate additional ideas.
Take care of things during summer that people normally put off until the last minute. For example, if you know how to use and have access to a camera and a darkroom, make photo Christmas cards ahead of time. Ask for help if necessary. Then make up some samples to exhibit. Take pictures while there is sunshine and good weather to pose them in; then deliver the cards early in the fall so customers have three months to address and mail them.
Summer’s a good time for cleaning rain gutters, changing air filters on furnaces, or cleaning out fireplace ash traps, before winter storms make the chores miserable.
Even people who do plan ahead often forget things when they come down to the wire. Why not combine a wake-up telephone agency with a reminder service? People might pay to have a cheery greeting reminding them to get out of bed on time, and they would certainly be glad to know they could depend on someone to remind them about birthdays, anniversaries, or critical business appointments.
Advance preparation includes storing up reserves. Help prepare fruits and vegetables for canning and learn valuable homemaking skills at the same time. Or chop and bundle firewood, including tree branches pruned and discarded by neighborhood gardeners. One group of teenagers spent the Christmas holidays stockpiling unwanted Christmas trees, then spent the summer trimming off the branches and sawing the trunks into logs so they could sell firewood in the fall.
By now you should be catching on to the job discovery method the same way Tom did when Jim started discussing garbage cans. Just think of things other people would be willing to pay to have done. Here are more ideas:
Wash and brush pet dogs and take them out for a walk; polish silverware; establish a mending service to sew on buttons and repair torn sleeves; help neighbors haul trash to the dump; wash shower curtains and repair their torn eyelets; form an oven-cleaning brigade that will also make refrigerators and sinks sparkle, for a modest fee; form a garage cleaning troupe. Two high school football players talked their fathers into lending them the money to purchase some wrecked cars and a piece of ground to store them on. They built a shed for an office, removed serviceable parts from the cars, inventoried them, and established a solid reputation for providing dependable used parts. When school reconvened, they sold their business at a profit.
Keep thinking, now. Try doing things people can’t do, don’t know how to do, or don’t like to do. Help a summer school teacher record grades or correct papers. Write letters for someone. Or stencil or etch identification codes on property to discourage burglars. Make puppets or sew doll clothes. One group of enterprising young people spent their summer making maps showing points of interest in their community. They were able to make a little money and also learned a lot about their town.
Be careful learning new skills, though. Several BYU students started their own worm farm and met with great success, but a young California man took up beekeeping only to find his insects were pollinating eucalyptus trees, producing honey that tasted like cough syrup!
Lots of people would like to do thoughtful things but don’t find time. Why not run a “Dial-a-Smile” company. Anonymous services could include birthday cakes, singing telegrams, running errands, or cooking dinners.
People also run out of time for certain tasks. Help them fight procrastination by regularly vacuuming and chlorinating their swimming pool; watering all the plants in an office building; sorting, labeling, and organizing old photos and papers; making an official scrapbook for a civic club; or conducting a garage sale.
Build on creative ideas and talents. Prepare visual aids and bulletin boards; make signs, posters, or greeting cards; have a bedtime story service for young children; organize neighborhood puppet shows, art lessons, or informal concerts for younger kids (they’d be glad for the change of pace from regular babysitting, and you and your friends would get a chance to practice before an audience); offer to plan birthday parties, picnics, or dinner dates for brothers, sisters, neighbors, or friends and supply all food and entertainment; make and sell your own cookbook (without plagiarizing, of course); or organize an advertising agency for all the other kids who need publicity (run off handbills on a mimeograph machine and distribute them).
Save others money by doing things less expensively. It may not be feasible to run a copy center, for example, but how about organizing a center specializing in collating, hole punching, and stapling after photocopies are made; or one that addresses and stamps envelopes for large companies, freeing secretaries for work requiring more technical skill. If your friends are brave, they might even hire you to give them a haircut! Or save money yourself by becoming a car washer who specializes in house calls, using the customer’s water instead of your own.
Some jobs, of course, are traditional, but if you approach them from a new angle, they can be modified from mundane chores into exciting, or at least profitable, endeavors. Try specializing: One fellow was earning money repairing flat bicycle tires when he also discovered he could use the same kit to patch the elementary school’s punctured playground balls. Now he has a regular agreement with the school to maintain their playground equipment.
Take youngsters you baby-sit to a park, museum, playground, or play. Make sure, though, to keep them under control and to obtain parental permission before going. Instead of just regular cleaning, specialize in one or two things: become a chrome polisher for cars (most car washers fail to remove rust and tar from bumpers and hubcaps); instead of just painting, become a whitewashing or a trim expert; learn how to sharpen and repair garden tools; study cement work; plant trees. Governmental forest services in several countries hire local residents near forests to plant and thin trees, but with this and other jobs involving formal organizations, it may be necessary to obtain a work permit, generally issued only to those 16 years old or older, and to contract ahead of time for a specific number of acres. Contact regional foresters for details.
A specialist in cleaning and repainting small boats could readily establish a clientele. Or concentrate on polishing furniture. Rather than just taking care of someone’s yard, become involved in planning what will be planted, perhaps studying enough to know which plants will ripen when. In doing yard work, vary the routine to add some spice by forming a partnership with a friend and alternating tasks. Besides painting house numbers on sidewalks, clean, repair, and paint mailboxes.
One other idea—anything you know how to do, you can teach to others. Many young women spend summers teaching younger children how to do everything from macrame to horseback riding. A high school auto mechanic spent part of one summer teaching ladies in his neighborhood how to change flat tires, measure the battery fluid level, change oil, check tire pressure, and do other minor maintenance on their cars.
Your brain gears should be well warmed-up and cranking by now. If ideas are flowing, take a moment now to write them down. Don’t worry about how silly they seem at first; judge them later. When the brainstorming list is finalized, however, it might be wise to review it, keeping in mind some of the following suggestions:
1. It’s a lot more enjoyable to do something fun. Enthusiasm will shine through, sometimes securing a job that otherwise would have gotten away.
2. In order to do a job immediately, it’s vital to already possess required skills and manpower. It may be necessary to wait until some training is completed.
3. Do you have the necessary tools and money to get started?
4. Can parents or friends lend help and advice if you get in a jam? Do you have your family’s support?
5. Once the enterprise is on its feet, let people know about it. Word-of-mouth will help, of course, but so will small classified ads or inexpensive handbills. Don’t overdo it. Do some work free for friends so that they will generate publicity.
6. If others are working with or for you, are they reliable? Your reputation may depend on them. Will supervision be required?
7. Some jobs require transportation. Not having a car, truck, or license may limit efforts to particular types of employment and may also reduce marketing area.
8. It’s hard to compete with real professionals. You’re selling comparatively amateur services, even though conscientiousness, honesty, and lower costs are generally on your side. Be frank about what can and can’t be done.
A summer job can be one of the most enjoyable parts of the school vacation, opening up the opportunity to develop new skills, eliminate boredom, and bolster self-confidence. Even if the employment market seems grim, there are lots of things to do around the neighborhood that will display resourcefulness. It’s not important to use the ideas listed here. Careful thinking adapted to local situations will generate others perhaps more practical for your area. Whatever works in a specific locality is fine. The point is, with so many things that can be done by hiring yourself, work is attainable.
Also, keep in mind the stepping-stone theory. The way your time is spent during junior high and high school summers may affect your potential for both future summer work and later, full-time employment. Mentally probe the future to see where what you’re doing will lead.
The real secret to finding a summertime job is to get busy long before vacations arrive. It’s too late to do that for this summer, but it isn’t too early to lay plans for next year. Here are some articles previously published in the New Era that offer valuable guidelines about steps to follow in applying for work:
“You Can Make It in the Summer Job Market,” by Jon M. Taylor, May 1972, p. 46.
“Summer Jobs: Keeping the One You Have or Creating a New One,” by Jon M. Taylor, June 1972, p. 42.
“What to Consider When Choosing a Vacation Job,” by Brian Kelly, April 1971, p. 40.
“Finding What Is Available,” by Robert Ghoslin, April 1971, p. 42.
“Canadian Jobs,” by Brian Woodford, April 1971, p. 43.
“How to Get That Vacation Job,” by Lynn Eric Johnson, April 1971, p. 44.
“What to Do If You’re Going Away to Work,” by Charlie L. Stewart, May 1971, p. 5.
“What About Summer Work?” Policies and Procedures, May 1971, p. 39.

This seminary year of home study in the Cambridge Ward in England was going to be different, I thought to myself. The weekly lessons on Tuesday nights were fun because of the close friendships the class had. The previous year my friend Helena and I tried to make the work easier on ourselves. I took the odd-numbered sections of the manual, and Helena took the evens. We each completed the work for those sections and then swapped answers. I have to confess: this was a step up from the year before when I had spent a day at her house copying all her work.
I resolved that this year was going to be different. I was going to take the initiative to learn all my scripture mastery scriptures (not just crumple and smooth out every page in my triple combination with a scripture mastery item to make it easier to turn to) and keep up to date with the home-study manual, if not get ahead. I imagined myself as the shining example to all my classmates. I went to the first class of the new term with my manual, pencil, and newly sharpened red scripture marker in hand and smugly told Helena that I would no longer be needing her help. I would, for a change, be doing the work myself. Or at least that was the plan.
A month later I knew I was already over my head and would need to slog it out for a whole weekend to catch up. A few weeks later I still hadn’t done as much as open the manual, and I tentatively asked Helena how she was doing in her home-study manual, in the hope we could come to an arrangement.
“Oh, when you said you were going to get ahead in the manual, I followed your example and I’m now a whole month-and-a-half ahead in the book. Thanks. You were right,” Helena said smugly, knowing I had reverted to my old ways. I was stuck and had lost my partner in crime.
I decided that I needed a daily reminder to read my scriptures and fill out my manual. It would be hard, and wading through at least three sections of the manual in a short amount of time did not sound appealing. I tried several techniques to remind me to do at least an hour of seminary work every day.
I tried reasoning that after my favorite TV show I would do an hour every evening, but favorite shows were followed by favorite shows, and even when the evening news came on, I was still not motivated. The prayer rock placed on my pillow or where I would tread on it to remind me soon ended up in the back garden after countless bruises on my forehead and stubbed toes. Willpower was not working, and I needed a way to be a bit more diligent in my seminary study.
I decided to pray to Heavenly Father to forgive me of my laziness and asked if He would help me to get down to work. I started putting up bright yellow sticky notes on my bunk bed and desk where I would see them and be reminded to read and study. For the most part they worked. I just had to back them up with constant prayer so that I wouldn’t become complacent.
A week before we had to have all our work turned in, I still had a few sections left to complete. I ended up at Helena’s home again, but this time we completed the remaining work together, reading through the scriptures and answering the questions. Even though I had left a lot of the work till late and had struggled to catch up, seminary turned out to be enjoyable and rewarding as I learned and retained more knowledge than any previous year of seminary. All thanks to Heavenly Father and a few well-placed sticky notes.

One day when Tommy was about eight years old, he and his grandfather were sitting on the front-porch swing. An elderly man from England lived on the same street. His name was Robert Dicks, but most of the neighbors just called him “Old Bob.” He was widowed and poor.

Old Bob came over and sat down on the porch swing with Tommy and his grandfather. He said that the small adobe house where he lived was going to be torn down. He had no family, no money, and nowhere to go.

Tommy wondered how his grandfather would respond to the sad story. His grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather change purse. He took out a key and put it in Old Bob’s hand. “Mr. Dicks,” he said tenderly, “you can move your things into that empty house of mine next door. It won’t cost you a cent, and you can stay there as long as you like. And remember, nobody is ever going to put you out again.” Tears filled Old Bob’s eyes.

Nellie Middleton, a fifty-five-year-old Latter-day Saint, lived in Cheltenham with her six-year-old daughter, Jennifer. To prepare her home against air strikes, she had used her modest wage as a dressmaker to furnish an area in her basement as a shelter, complete with food, water, oil lamps, and a small iron bed for Jennifer. Following instructions from the government, Nellie had also covered her windows with netting to catch flying shards of glass in the event of an attack.1
Now, all over Cheltenham, bombs were whistling through the air and crashing to the ground with a thunderous roar. The terrifying noise grew ever closer to Nellie’s home until a tremendous explosion on a nearby street rattled her walls, shattering the windows and filling the netting with razor-sharp glass.
In the morning, the city streets were filled with rubble. The bombs had killed twenty-three people and left more than six hundred homeless.2
Nellie and other Cheltenham Saints did their best to endure after the attack. When British Mission president Hugh B. Brown and other North American missionaries left the country nearly a year earlier, the small branch and others like it struggled to fill callings and run Church programs. Then the local men went away to war, leaving no priesthood holders to bless the sacrament or formally administer branch business. Before long, the branch was forced to disband.
An older man named Arthur Fletcher, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, lived about twenty miles away, and he rode his rusty bicycle to visit the Cheltenham Saints whenever he could. But most of the time it was Nellie, the former Relief Society president in the Cheltenham Branch, who took responsibility for the spiritual and temporal welfare of the Saints in her area. With the branch closed, the Church members could no longer meet in the rented hall they used on Sundays, so Nellie’s living room became the place where the Relief Society prayed, sang, and studied.3
On a quiet November night in 1943, Nellie Middleton heard her doorbell ring. It was dark outside, but she knew enough not to have the lights on when she opened the door. Nearly three years had passed since German bombs had first fallen near her home, and Nellie continued to darken her windows at night to keep herself and her daughter safe from air raids.
With her lights out, Nellie opened the door. A young man was standing on her front step, his face in shadow. He extended his hand and quietly introduced himself as Brother Ray Hermansen. His accent was undeniably American.4
A lump came to Nellie’s throat. After their branch disbanded, she and other women in Cheltenham had longed to take the sacrament more regularly. The United States had recently sent troops to England to prepare for an Allied offensive against Nazi Germany. Once it had occurred to Nellie that some of the American soldiers stationed in her town might be Latter-day Saints who could bless the sacrament, she had asked her stepsister, Margaret, to paint a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and place it in town. Below the picture was a message: “If any soldier is interested in the above, he will find a warm welcome at 13 Saint Paul’s Road.”5
Had this American seen her poster? Did he have authority to bless the sacrament? Nellie shook his hand and welcomed him inside.
Ray was a twenty-year-old Latter-day Saint soldier from Utah and a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. Although he was stationed ten miles away, he had heard about the Salt Lake Temple painting from another Church member and obtained leave to visit the address. He had walked to Nellie’s home on foot, which was why he had arrived after dark. When Nellie told him about her desire to take the sacrament, he asked her when he could come to administer the ordinance to her.
On November 21, Nellie, her daughter, and three other women welcomed Ray to their Sunday meeting. Nellie opened the meeting with prayer before the group sang “How Great the Wisdom and the Love.” Ray then blessed and passed the sacrament, and all four women bore testimony of the gospel.
Soon other Latter-day Saint soldiers heard about the meetings at Saint Paul’s Road. Some Sundays, Nellie’s living room was so full that people had to sit on the staircase.6

I recall when my wife and I invited our teenage sons and daughters to take a challenge, one which they accepted. They were to pray earnestly that the Lord would help them identify a person they were to help come into the Church. There would be no time limit. They were to pray and search and wait until the Spirit spoke to them, until they found that special person who would accept the invitation to either participate with them in a Church activity or to listen to the message of our missionaries.
We promised them that they would know for sure because it would be just as though the Lord were pointing his finger at that person. They were also to pray that they would know what to say to that person at the time.
One son returned in about two weeks with the story that he definitely had been impressed to approach a young man who sat by him at the university. He approached him about the Church and was rejected. Naturally he felt discouraged and questioned the validity of our project.
“Did you truly love him?” I asked. “Or were you just trying to compile a statistic? Did you have love in your heart and in your eyes when you approached him? Were you listening to the Spirit to help you as you approached him?”
“Let me try again,” our son asked. “Let me fast and pray about it. Then I`ll try again.”
After fasting and praying about it, he still felt impressed that this was the young man he should introduce to the Church. He approached him once more, this time with great love in his heart, in his eyes, and in his soul. The young man agreed to meet with our son and the missionaries to learn about the Church.
Not only was the young man baptized but his inactive wife was reactivated and their three children will now have the blessings of being reared in an LDS home.

In her bedroom Mom opened a small box and lifted out a silver handheld mirror.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, fingering the letter B etched on the back.
“This was my grandmother’s mirror,” Mom said. “When I polish this mirror, I try to imagine what Grandma Beatrice saw when she looked into it. Maybe at first she saw a young girl, like you, dreaming of her future.
“I can imagine the light of happiness she saw in her eyes when she looked at her long braids in the mirror before her baptism. Did you know she wasn’t able to be baptized until she was 18 years old?”
“And then after her marriage to Grandpa, she had a baby daughter who lived only two days. I imagine the eyes she saw in this mirror then were swollen with tears.
“Many years after that, she would have seen her joyful reflection as she prepared to go to the temple to be sealed to her husband and three children.
“As an older woman, she may have used this mirror to place a hat on her head before going to her Relief Society meetings.
“And finally, as a gray-haired widow, she may have seen the brave determination in her eyes as she lived for many years alone but faithful to the end.”

As Melissa turned her attention back to the ward council meeting, she thought, “If only everyone could be surrounded by such loving friends and leaders as they progress toward the temple.”
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the Relief Society president comment on a sister in need: “She wasn’t at church last Sunday. I’ll make sure her visiting teachers let her know about the upcoming temple trip.”
“They’ve got some hard things going on right now,” added the elders quorum president. “I’ll follow up with their home teachers and see if there’s anything we can do.”
“The young women could help with babysitting,” said the Young Women president.
As Melissa looked at the faces of the members of the ward council, she saw genuine affection and concern. A smile spread across her face. “The Lord has prepared ways for His children to be protected and loved,” she thought. “The ward council!”

Over the centuries, other stories of miraculous happenings relating to Sabbath day observance have been preserved. One is the story of the cobbler working under one of the megalithic stones in Avebury, near Stonehenge, England:
“‘One Sunday,’ wrote John Saunders in his journal for August 13, 1712, ‘a cobler was mending of shoos under one of these great stones. The minute he rose the stone fell down and broke in pieces on the very ground where he sat which made him see the great providence of God in preserving him alive and so deter him from braking the Sabbath for which reason he never more worked on the Sabbath day’” (Michael Pitts, Footprints through Avebury [Dorchester, England: The Friary Press Limited, 1985], pp. 31–32).